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Title: Proud and Lazy
A Story for Little Folks
Author: Oliver Optic
Release Date: January 24, 2008 [EBook #24415]
Language: English
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The Riverdale Stories
PROUD AND LAZY
A STORY FOR LITTLE FOLKS
BY
OLIVER OPTIC
AUTHOR OF "THE BOAT CLUB," "ALL ABOARD," "NOW OR NEVER,"
"TRY AGAIN," "POOR AND PROUD," "THE WOODVILLE
STORIES," ETC., ETC.
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS
PROUD AND LAZY.
[Pg 5]
I.
Tommy Woggs was a funny little boy. He was very proud and very lazy. He seemed
to think he was a great man, and that other people lived only to serve and obey him.
None of the boys and girls liked him, because he used to order them round, and
because he thought himself so much better than they were.
Tommy's father was a doctor, and a rich man. He could afford to have servants to
wait upon his son, but he was not quite rich enough to spoil the child by letting him do
as he pleased.
There are some things that wealth cannot purchase. It will not buy wisdom, for all the
money in the world would not teach a person even to perform a simple question in
arithmetic.
It will not buy the love and respect of others. Many rich men are hated and despised
by nearly all who know them.
So Tommy's father could not buy an education for his son, nor would wealth win for
him the esteem of his companions. He must study like the children of poor people if he
wanted to be wise; and he must treat them well, in order to obtain their good will.
Tommy did not like to study, and he did like to command others. He wished every
body to think that he was better than they, because he had been to New York, and
because his father was rich.
Children are just like men and women. They always find out the really good boys and
girls, and love and respect them. And they never think much of those who think too
much of themselves.
When Tommy was eight years old, his father sent him to the village school. It was a
public school, and it was the best in the town. He had learned his letters at home, and
was able to read a very little.
At first he was pleased with the idea of going to school, and did not even tell his
mother he would not go. He was very apt to say he would not do anything, when he
was told to do it.
I am sorry to add that his parents were very much to blame, for he was an only child,
and they did not like to cross him. They did not make him "mind," as all good parents
ought to do, and as all good children are willing to do. He used to have his own way;
and when he went to school, he hardly knew what it was to obey.
Miss Dale, the teacher, gave him a good seat, when he first went to school, and spoke
very kindly to him. For two or three days he got along quite well. It was a new thing to
him, and he was pleased with the school and the teacher.
But in a little while he was tired of the place, and of the teacher, and he had yet to
learn that he could not always have his own way.
On the fourth day of his school-life, when Miss Dale called him up to read, he made
up his mind that he would not read.
"I don't want to read," said he.
"Perhaps you don't, Thomas. Do you know what your father sends you to school
for?" replied Miss Dale.
"No, I don't."
"You must not speak so to me. Come here."
"I won't."
"Don't be naughty, Thomas. I asked you to come to me."
"I won't."
"If you won't come, I shall bring you."
[Pg 6]
[Pg 7]
[Pg 8]
[Pg 9]
Tommy didn't exactly know what to make of this; but the teacher did not give him
much time to think about it, for she took him by the collar of his coat, and, in spite of
his kicking and screaming, dragged him up to the desk.
"Now, stand there, Thomas; and if you are a good boy, and obey me, I will not hurt
you at all."
"I won't be a good boy," growled Tommy; and when Miss Dale let go of him, he threw
himself on the floor and began to kick and scream as though he had been mad.
The teacher opened her desk, and took out a little stick. Tommy did not like the looks
of the stick, but he kept on kicking and screaming.
"Get up, Thomas," said Miss Dale.
"I won't," screamed Tommy, very loud.
"Won't you?"
"No, I won't."
"Then I shall whip you."
"No, you won't," yelled Tommy.
But he was mistaken. Miss Dale would and did whip him, till he was glad to get up. He
found the little stick was a thing not to be trifled with, for it made him smart so he
could not bear the pain.
"I'm going home," said Tommy.
"Not yet, Thomas."
"Yes, I will."
"I think not. Now, pick up your book, and be a good boy."
"I won't."
Then a smart cut of the stick upon one of his legs made him scream with pain again.
"Pick up your book, now, Thomas."
"I'll tell my mother of you," snarled Tommy, as he picked up the book.
"You may, if you choose. Now open your book."
He did not mind, and again he felt the terrible stick, which caused him to obey.
"Now, Thomas," said Miss Dale, as she put the stick in the desk, "when I tell you to
do anything, you must obey me."
"I won't, either."
"You must not say you won't to me."
"Yes, I will."
The teacher opened the desk and took out the stick again.
"Will you?"
"Yes, I will."
Tommy felt the stick once more; and this time blow followed blow till Tommy, of his
own accord, promised not to use the naughty words again.
"Now, Thomas, if you will be a good boy you will not have any more trouble. You
must do what I tell you to do, and not be saucy to me."
"I'll tell my mother of you. She don't whip me," muttered Tommy.
"You may tell your mother, and if she does not wish you to mind, she must not send
you here. But I think she wants you to be a good boy, obey your teacher, and get your
[Pg 10]
[Pg 11]
[Pg 12]
lessons."
"No, she don't," said Tommy, who was not quite willing to be good yet.
"Well, it does not make any difference whether she does or not; you must mind all I
say if you come to school here."
Miss Dale then heard him read; but he did not do very well. He was thinking all the
time what he could do that was naughty; but as he kept one eye on the little stick, he
did not venture again to disobey or to be saucy.
When he went home that day he told his mother he was not going to school any more;
and perhaps she would have let him have his own way. But his father, when he heard
what Miss Dale had done, said he was glad she had made him mind, and that he
should go to school in the afternoon.
Tommy makes a mistake.
Tommy makes a mistake.
To make the matter sure, Dr. Woggs went to school with him himself, and told the
teacher to make a good boy of him, if she could, and above all things to make him
obey her. So Tommy got the worst of it, after all.
Tommy and his Father.
Tommy and his Father.
II.
[Pg 13]
[Pg 14]
[Pg 15]
[Pg 16]
[Pg 17]
Tommy Woggs learned to obey while he was in school. That little stick produced a
great change in him; but after the first week, Miss Dale did not have occasion to use it
again.
He found that he must mind, and he had sense sufficient to see that it was just as easy
to obey before he was whipped, or even scolded, as it was afterwards.
It was the next year after Tommy began to go to school that he went to New York. It
was a great thing for a little boy like him to go away so far, and see so many wonderful
things; and his companions, for a time, thought he was a real hero.
When he came back he told ever so many stories of what he had seen—of the fine
buildings in New York, of the great crowds of people in Broadway, and the sights he
saw at the Museum.
But the children soon grew tired of it, and did not want to hear any more of Tommy's
stories. I think it quite likely that, if Tommy had not been so smart about it, they would
have been glad to hear a great deal more about New York.
But I have another story to tell about Tommy; and I hope it will convince all my young
readers that it is better to obey their parents, even if they are not punished, than it is to
disregard what they tell them.
I have said that Tommy was proud and lazy. He was so proud he did not like to mind;
and so lazy that he did not like to go to school, because he had to study there, and
learn his lessons.
One fine morning in June, when the birds were singing on all the trees, and the grass
looked bright and green on the hills, Tommy left his father's house to go to school.
He did not want to go to school that day. He told his mother it was too pleasant to be
shut up in a school room all day, and he begged that he might be permitted to stay at
home.
"No, Tommy, you must go to school. Your father says that you must not stay at home
a single day, unless you are sick."
This was about an hour before school time, and the lazy boy sat on the door stone, for
a while, and then came back and told his mother he did not feel very well.
"What ails you, Tommy?" asked his mother.
"I'm sick."
"Not very sick, I think."
"Yes, I am; real sick."
Just then his father came in, and heard his complaint.
"How long have you felt sick, Tommy?" asked his father.
"Ever since I got up," replied Tommy, placing his hand upon his stomach.
"You ate your breakfast very well for a sick boy."
"I feel worse since I ate my breakfast," said the little boy, trying very hard to look sick.
"What ails you?"
"I feel sick at the stomach."
"Well, I think you will feel better by and by," added Dr. Woggs.
"But I can't go to school, father."
"O, you can't?" said his father, with a smile.
"I don't feel able to go."
"Then you needn't go."
[Pg 18]
[Pg 19]
[Pg 20]
Tommy was much pleased to find he had gained his point; and he did not think of the
wicked lies he had told. His father said he might stay away from school that day, and
this was all he wanted.
He had a pair of rabbits in the wood shed, and without thinking that he was sick, he
was going out to play with them.
"Where are you going, Tommy?" asked his father.
"Out in the wood shed to see my rabbits."
"I thought you were sick."
"So I am, father."
"Then sit down on the sofa, and I will attend to you in a moment. Do you feel very
sick?"
"I'm real bad, father," replied Tommy, quickly, for he was afraid his father would send
him to school, after all.
Dr. Woggs opened a drawer in his bookcase, and took out a little jar, filled with a kind
of yellow powder. He then asked Mrs. Woggs to get him a little molasses in a cup, and
a teaspoon.
Tommy turned pale then, for he knew all about that powder in the little jar.
"Now, my son, we will make you well by to-morrow, so that you will be able to go to
school again," said Dr. Woggs, as he took the cover off the jar.
Tommy began to cry, for he would rather have taken a whipping than a dose of that
nasty, yellow powder.
"What's the matter, Tommy? Do you feel worse?" asked his father.
"I don't want to take any of that stuff," whined the poor little invalid.
"I know, Tommy, it isn't pleasant to take; but when we are sick, we must take
something to keep us from getting any worse."
"I don't want to take it, father. It always makes me a good deal sicker than I was
before—it does indeed, father."
"That's very true, my boy; but, for all that, you must take it. We very often have to
make folks worse before they can be any better. It always hurts to set a broken arm or
leg; but no one would think of letting it remain unset because the operation is painful."
His mother soon came with the cup of molasses, and Dr. Woggs put some of the
yellow powder into it, and stirred up the mixture.
"I don't want to take it, father," cried Tommy, who was trembling with dread at the
very thought of the nasty stuff.
"I can't help it, my boy. You must take it," said the doctor, in such a tone that the poor
boy felt he must obey, or confess that he had told a falsehood.
"I can't take it, father," he groaned.
"Poor boy! I know it is not good; but only think how sick you are! Why, you are so
bad that you cannot go to school."
"I will go to school," whined Tommy.
"What! when you are sick?" asked his father. "O, no; you must not go to school when
you are sick; it is a bad place for sick boys. Take the medicine, stay at home and get
well."
"I will go to school," repeated Tommy, earnestly.
"Not when you are sick, my son."
"I'm not sick, father."
[Pg 21]
[Pg 22]
[Pg 23]
[Pg 24]
"Not sick!"
"No, father."
"Didn't you say only a few moments since that you were sick—real bad?"
"But I am much better now; and I think I am able to go to school."
"You may be sick again, my son."
"I shall not, father; I know I shall not."
"I think you had better take the medicine to prevent another attack."
"No, father; I wasn't sick at all," said the little boy, very sheepishly.
Dr. Woggs scolded him in a most severe manner for the falsehood he had uttered, and
then sent him to school. He ought to have remembered this lesson. It was the last time
that Tommy ever pretended he was sick, as that disgusting yellow powder frequently
showed itself to his imagination.
I don't think it would answer for many parents to do as Tommy's father did; but he
was a doctor, and understood the case.
Tommy had been in New York.
Tommy had been in New York.
III.
It was a beautiful morning in June when Tommy Woggs left his home to go to school,
after the events which I have related in the last chapter.
He did not want to go to school—of course he did not, or he would not have pretended
to be sick, that he might stay at home. The grass looked so green, and the birds sang
so sweetly, that he wished to have a good time with them in the fields.
If he had been a good boy, and had always done his duty in school, he would not have
felt so; and he was just as much to blame for feeling wrong as he was for doing wrong.
I have always noticed that children who behave well, and get their lessons, like to be in
school. It is a pleasant place to them. And doing right always makes us happy,
wherever we are.
But those who are naughty, and neglect their duties, are always in trouble; and for this
reason they hate school. It is their own fault, however, that they dislike it, for if they
did right, they would be happy not only there, but everywhere else.
[Pg 25]
[Pg 26]
[Pg 27]
[Pg 28]
Tommy dragged along the street like a snail, or like a sheep led to the slaughter. When
he got about half way to the school house, he met Joe Birch and Ben Tinker.
My readers already know Joe Birch, and know that he was a bad boy; and I suppose,
after being told that Ben Tinker was his constant companion, they can easily guess
what kind of a boy he was. They were very much alike, and were the leaders in all the
mischief done in Riverdale.
"Where are you going, Tommy?" asked Ben.
"I am going to school," he replied, stopping to talk with the two boys, who were seated
on a rock at the side of the road.
"Have you got any money, Tom?" said Joe.
"No, I haven't."
"'Cause, if you've got three cents about you, I will tell you something."
"What?" inquired Tommy, without thinking of the price which the bad boy asked for
his important information.
"That's telling," replied Joe, winking at his companion.
"Won't you tell me?"
"Give me three cents, and I will."
"I haven't got three cents; but I will give them to you some time."
"I won't trust you. Give me the money now, and I will tell you all about it," added Joe.
"How can I give it to you when I haven't got it?"
The two bad boys saw that he was willing enough to pay them for what they had to tell
him, and they had only to devise a plan by which he could raise the funds.
"Are you going to school, Tom?" asked Joe Birch.
"Yes."
"What for?"
"Because my father makes me go. I tried to get off this morning. I made believe sick;
but father was going to make me take some of his nasty physic, and I thought I'd
rather go to school than do that."
"I can tell you how you can stay away from school without taking any physic."
"How?"
"Give me the three cents, and I will tell you."
"I haven't them; if I had I would."
"Well, I will tell you how to get them, if you like."
"How?"
"Go home to your mother, and tell her the schoolma'am sent you home for three cents
to buy a new book."
"I'll do that," replied Tommy, not stopping to think how wicked was the act which the
bad boy proposed to him.
"Mind you, Tom, go to your mother—don't go to your father."
Tommy promised to do just as he was told by these bad boys, and ran home with all
his might, to get the money for them. His mother did not stop to ask him any
questions, though she wondered what book he could buy for three cents.
"Here's the three cents," said Tommy, as he joined the boys in the road. "Now tell me
how I can stay away from school without having to take any physic."
[Pg 29]
[Pg 30]
[Pg 31]
"Just come with us; we are not going to school this fine morning. When the factory bell
rings for twelve o'clock, just go home; and your folks won't know but that you have
been to school."
"That's the way," added Ben Tinker. "That's what the fellers call 'hookin' jack.'"
Tommy did not exactly like the idea at first, for he could not help thinking what might
happen in case he got found out. He did not ask himself whether it was right or wrong
to do what the boys called "hooking jack;" but only whether he should get found out or
not.
We ought always to do right, whatever may happen to us; and we should never do
wrong, even if we feel certain of not being found out.
"Where are you going?" asked Tommy.
"Over the other side of the river. We must not let any one see us after school time, for
they will know we ought to be in school."
"And, just you mind, Tom Woggs," added Ben, "if you get found out yourself, you
mustn't tell of us. If you do, you will be apt to get a broken head—mind that."
Joe Birch jumped over the wall into the lot, and was followed by his companions in
evil. Tommy did not feel just right; not that he felt bad because he was doing wrong,
but because he was afraid of the two boys.
When they had crossed the lot, they came to a by-road; and here it was agreed that
Ben should run up to the village and buy something with the money which Tommy
had furnished.
He was gone but a little while; and when he joined them again, they all hastened across
the bridge, and were soon in the woods, where no one could see them.
"What did you buy with the money?" asked Joe.
"Some cigars. I got six for three cents."
"Cigars!" exclaimed Tommy. "What do you want of cigars?"
"To smoke, of course. What do you think?"
"It will make you sick."
"I guess not. You shall have one, if you like. A feller ain't nobody if he don't smoke,"
replied Joe.
But the boys decided not to smoke at first; and seeing there was plenty of sticks and
brush in the woods, Tommy proposed that they should build a house—just for the fun
of it.
"So we will; and when we get it done, we will smoke our cigars in it, and have a good
time," replied Ben.
"That will be first rate," added Joe. "But how are you going to build it?"
"O, I know how. I have been to New York, and I know all about these things," said
Tommy, beginning now to show his usual vanity.
"I say, Tom, do they make houses out of brush in New York?" asked Ben.
"No; but then I have been about more than you have, and I ought to know more, of
course. I will be the builder, and you two shall be my servants."
"Look here, Tom—none of that talk, my boy. We ain't your servants, any how," said
Joe.
"Never mind him, Joe," added Ben. "Let him build the house, if he can. I wonder what
it will look like!"
"Well, you bring me the sticks and brush, and see if I don't build a good one," replied
Tommy.
[Pg 32]
[Pg 33]
[Pg 34]
[Pg 35]
The two boys agreed to this plan; and in a little while they had a great pile of sticks and
brush, and Tommy began to build the house. He stuck up two sticks, like the letter V,
and then carried a long pole from the top of them down to the ground. Against the
pole, he set up long sticks; and then told his companions to cover them over with brush
and leaves.
It did not take a very long time to build such a house as this, and it was soon finished.
The boys were much pleased with it, and seated themselves on the ground, inside of it,
for the purpose of having a good time.
The home in the woods.
The home in the woods.
IV.
It was now after eleven o'clock, and it would soon be time for the truants to return
home.
The hut which they had built was not very tight, but it kept the sun out; and the boys
were so well pleased with it that they agreed to come there again in the afternoon.
They wished the forenoon had been much longer, for their fun came to an end too
soon.
"Now, boys, we will have a smoke," said Joe, as they seated themselves in the house.
"Yes; and we haven't any too much time," replied Ben Tinker, as he took the cigars
from his pocket.
"Have you any matches?"
"To be sure I have. What's the use of cigars without any matches? Take a cigar,
Tom."
Tommy took the cigar, and though he had some doubts about smoking it, he did not
like to be behind his companions in anything. He thought it would make him sick, as he
had known it to do to others. He did not want to smoke it, but he had not the courage
to refuse.
He was proud, and did not want to have the other boys any smarter than he was. They
thought it was manly and big to smoke, for I don't believe either of them could have
liked the fumes of a cigar. They had not smoked enough for this.
Ben lighted a match, and then his cigar. Joe, as dignified as any old smoker, took a
light from him; and both of them puffed away, and felt as big as though they were
doing some great thing.
"Have a light, Tommy?" asked Ben. "If you are going with us, you must learn to
[Pg 36]
[Pg 37]
[Pg 38]
[Pg 39]
[Pg 40]
[Pg 41]
smoke."
"All the fellers that are anything smoke," added Joe.
"Then I'll smoke," replied Tommy. "I used to see lots of gentlemen smoking cigars in
Broadway, in New York, when I was there."
"Of course you did."
Tommy put the cigar into his mouth; he did not like the taste of the thing, but he felt
that it was a good cause, and he was willing to be a martyr. Ben lent him his cigar to
light it by; and with a little instruction from his friends, he was soon able to puff away
as smart as any of them.
It was not half so bad as he had feared it would be. It did not make him sick, at first,
and he thought he was one of that kind who can smoke without learning.
He felt as big as his companions then, for the wrong idea that smoking was smart had
taken full possession of him.
There are some savages who paint their faces—they think it is smart; we don't think
so. Some Indians wear bits of tin fastened to the ends of their noses—they think it
looks pretty; we don't think so.
It does not follow, therefore, that every thing that looks smart is so. A little boy, or any
boy, with a cigar in his mouth, is a disgusting sight to sensible people. We never heard
of any man who thought it was smart for boys to smoke, or to make use of tobacco in
any way.
"Now, Tom, tell us something about New York while we are smoking," said Ben.
"Well, I will, if you wish me to do so; but I have got almost tired of talking about New
York. Everybody wants to know what I saw there."
Some Savages who paint their faces.
Some Savages who paint their faces.
"Do they?" laughed Joe.
"Yes; I don't like to say no to them, for I am willing to help along those who don't
know as much as I do."
"Do you mean to say we don't know as much as you do?" demanded Ben, angrily.
"Well, you haven't been to New York—have you?"
"What if we haven't?"
[Pg 42]
[Pg 43]
[Pg 44]
[Pg 45]
"Then, of course, you can't know so much as I do. I was there a week."
"If you say that again, I'll pound you," said Ben, rising.
"There's a stump for you, Tom," added Joe.
Tommy had not a great deal of courage; but, in a little while, Joe Birch managed to get
up a fight between his little companions. He showed Tommy how to strike; and the
two boys went into the matter like real bruisers.
The fight in the woods.
The fight in the woods.
Of course, Tommy Woggs got whipped—and it served him just right. His face was
scratched, and one of his eyes was very red. Just then he thought he should not tell
another boy that he did not know as much as he did.
The quarrel was soon made up; for after Ben Tinker had thrashed the little boaster he
was satisfied, and Tommy did not dare to be cross. By this time they had to start for
home.
Tommy had not got half way to his father's house before he began to feel dizzy, and to
realize a very unpleasant feeling at the stomach. But he hurried home as fast as he
could, which was not very fast, for he was sick in earnest now.
He staggered into the parlor, where his mother was sewing. He felt very bad then, and
wished, with all his heart, that he had gone to school, and kept away from the bad
boys.
"I feel sick, mother," said Tommy, as he threw himself into a chair.
"Why, Tommy! You are as pale as a ghost," exclaimed his mother, looking up from
her work. "What ails you?"
"I feel sick at the stomach. I want to go to bed."
Whatever were the doubts Mrs. Woggs had in the morning about her son's sickness,
she had none now. His pale face and blue lips were evidences of his condition.
Taking him by the hand, she led him upstairs, and put him into bed. Then she called
Dr. Woggs, who was in his library, to come upstairs and see him.
"Poor boy; he is real sick," said his mother, as the doctor entered the room. "He is just
as pale as death, and could hardly walk upstairs."
"What ails him?"
"He is sick at the stomach, just as he was this morning. It was too bad to send him to
school when he felt so sick. I knew he was ill then."
[Pg 46]
[Pg 47]
[Pg 48]
[Pg 49]
[Pg 50]
"He wasn't very bad this morning," said the doctor, who did not know what to make of
it.
"He was real sick then, and I knew he was. It was too bad to make him go to school,"
added the fond mother.
"But I didn't make him go to school," replied Dr. Woggs. "I was only going to give him
some medicine to make him better."
The cigar had done its work; and it operated upon him just as that nasty yellow
powder would if he had taken it.
"What's this?" said the doctor, after the contents of Tommy's stomach had been
thrown up. "What have you been doing, Tommy?"
"Nothing, father," replied Tommy, faintly.
"You have been smoking. You smell as strong of tobacco smoke as a bar-room
loafer."
"Smoking!" exclaimed Mrs. Woggs, with horror.
"Have you been smoking, Tommy?" asked his father sternly.
The poor sufferer felt so bad, he had no courage to tell a lie, and he was obliged to
own that he had been smoking.
When he felt a little better, his father questioned him so closely, that in spite of his
promise, Tommy had to say he had "hooked jack" that forenoon, and that he had been
in the woods with Joe and Ben, where each of them had smoked a cigar.
Dr. Woggs went to the school that afternoon, and told Miss Dale all about it; and then
to the parents of Joe and Ben, and told them all about it. The truants were all
punished; and as the schoolmistress promised to send word to their homes when either
of them was absent again, they had no chance to "hook jack" afterwards.
Tommy was as well as ever the next day; but that red eye became a black eye, and the
children laughed at him for a week.
He thought how much trouble he had caused himself by being proud and lazy, and he
resolved to be a better boy. He did very well for some time; he went to school without
complaining, and didn't talk big; but he was not entirely cured.
It often takes a great while to get rid of bad habits; but we should banish them, even if
it takes a whole lifetime to do so.
CARELESS KATE.
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She tried to look as if nothing had
happened.—Page 83.
CARELESS KATE.
I.
"Kate!" said Mrs. Lamb to her daughter, who was playing in the garden, in front of the
house.
"What do you want, mother?" replied the little girl, without even lifting her eyes from
the ground, in which she was planting a marigold.
I don't think any of my young readers regard this as a proper answer for a little girl to
make to her mother; and I hope none of them ever speak to their parents in this
manner.
"Come into the house. I want you," added her mother.
But Kate did not go till she got ready. She was not in the habit of minding her mother
at once, and without asking any improper questions, as all good children do, or ought
to do, at least.
When she stepped out of the bed of flowers, in which she had been at work, instead of
looking to see where she put her feet, she kept her eyes fixed on the place where she
had just planted the marigold.
"Look before you leap" is a good motto for everybody—for children, as well as for
men and women. If Kate had thought of it, perhaps she would have saved herself and
her mother a great deal of trouble.
She did not mind where she stepped, and put her foot upon a beautiful, sweet-scented
peony, which had just come out of the ground. She broke the stem short off, and
crushed the root all in pieces.
Now, this flower was very highly prized by Mrs. Lamb, for she had brought it from a
great distance, and it was the only one of the kind in Riverdale at that time.
Kate was very fond of flowers herself, and when she saw the mischief she had done,
she cried with anger and vexation. She would not have spoiled this peony for a great
deal, for she had looked forward with much pleasure to the time when it should bud
and blossom, and fill the garden with its fragrance.
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"What is the matter with you, Kate?" called her mother, from the house, when she
heard Kate crying.
"I did not mean to do it, mother," sobbed the poor girl.
"Didn't mean to do what, Kate?" said her mother, rushing into the garden to find out
what mischief had been done.
Mrs. Lamb was very angry when she saw that the peony was spoiled; and she took
Kate by the arm, and shook her. I don't think this shaking did any good; but it was a
great trial to her to see her favorite flower destroyed.
"You careless girl!" said Mrs. Lamb.
"I didn't mean to, mother," replied Kate.
"But you were careless, as you always are. Will you never learn to be careful? You
walk about the flower beds as though they were solid rocks."
"I did not mean to tread upon it," was all that poor Kate could say.
It was very true that she did not mean to spoil the peony; but it was almost as bad to
ruin it by being careless. Children ought to understand that not meaning to do wrong is
not a good excuse, when the wrong might have been prevented by being careful.
Suppose the captain of a ship should run his vessel on the rocks, and lose a dozen
lives, by being careless; do you think people would be willing to trust him with another
vessel afterwards?
Suppose the engineer should neglect to keep watch of the boiler, and it should burst;
would not people blame him? Would they think it a good excuse if he said he did not
mean to let it burst?
If the man who has the keeping of a powder house should smoke a pipe in it, and
twenty persons should be killed by his carelessness, do you think it would be enough
for him to say he did not intend to kill them?
When we go on the water in a sailing vessel or a steamer; when we ride on a railroad,
in a stage, or wagon, our lives depend on the carefulness with which the vessel,
railroad, or carriage is managed. People don't excuse them, when lives are lost,
because they did not mean to kill anybody.
You are liable to lose your life every day by the carelessness of some one. The house
in which you are to sleep on a cold winter's night may be burned down by the neglect
of those who take care of the fires.
The careless use of a lamp might destroy many lives and much property. If you play
with fire, though you do not mean any harm, you may burn the house in which you
live, and perhaps destroy the lives of your friends.
A little carelessness may produce dreadful results. The want of thought for a few
moments may do more mischief than you can repair in a whole lifetime.
Kate Lamb was not a bad girl at heart. She loved her parents and her friends as much
as any little girl; but she often gave them a great deal of trouble and sadness by her
carelessness.
She was so thoughtless that she had come to be called "Careless Kate." It was a bad
fault; and it sometimes led her to commit worse ones, as my story will show.
"Now, Kate, come into the house; and next time, when I call, come at once," said her
mother. "If you had minded me, perhaps my flower would not have been spoiled."
"I will be more careful next time, mother," replied Kate.
"I hope you will. I think you have done sufficient mischief by being careless, and I
hope you will soon begin to do better."
"I will try, mother."
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